


The Forty-Seven Deaths of Ianto Jones

by lionessvalenti



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Character Death, Children of Earth Fix-It, Clones, Community: dark_bingo, Community: dark_fest, M/M, Post-Children of Earth (Season 3)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack can't watch Ianto die again, so he does what he has to do, but it starts a cycle he can't bring himself to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forty-Seven Deaths of Ianto Jones

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Lefaym for beta reading!

Ianto's eyes open and it's the most beautiful color of blue Jack has ever seen. Jack has to hold back a sob and fight the urge to hold Ianto to his chest. He doesn't want to startle him. He's only just woken up.

Ianto opens his mouth, but no words come out, only a dry coughing sound, and his eyes bulge. He turns his head, looking around the lab in a panic, and Jack takes him by the shoulder so he won't fall from the narrow medical table. 

"Here," Jack says, helping Ianto into a sitting position. He grabs a glass of water and presses it into Ianto's hand. "Drink," he says.

Ianto does, gulping down the water, and Jack pours him three more glasses before Ianto's able to form words. "Jack," he says, his voice is still rough around the edges. "Where are we? What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Jack asks, taking the glass from Ianto's hand. Their fingers brush and now that Jack isn't trying to keep Ianto from having an anxiety attack, he can savor the feel of Ianto's skin against his own.

"I don't know," Ianto says. He licks his lips and swallows. "We were... in the Thames House. The 456 -- there was a--"

"Shhh," Jack said, running his hand through Ianto's hair. "Don't worry about it. It's over. It's all over, and we won."

_We won, but there were costs. We won, but you lost. We won, but I sacrificed by own grandson to do it. We won, but I'm broken. We won, but I ran away because I couldn't face Gwen. Because she would disapprove of what I was going to do. Because she'd disapprove of you._

"Is it ever as simple as that?" Ianto asks with raised eyebrows. "The good guys won?"

Jack smiles and shakes his head. "No, it's not. But you're here. _We're_ here."

"Where's Gwen? Is she--? Did she--?"

"Gwen's fine," Jack assures him quickly, his hands cupping Ianto's cheeks. "But we got separated, and we can't go back."

Ianto stares up at Jack's face. "Something happened. Someone died."

_You died._

"No one died," Jack says, and his words are hollow even to him. It's not going to fly with Ianto. He can explain Steven's death to him later. "You should get some rest, Ianto. It's been a long day."

Ianto nods, probably more tired than he'd ever let on, and lays back down. Jack covers him with a fuzzy blanket (one he'd brought with him; the medical facility wouldn't have anything so comforting) and waits until he's sure Ianto's asleep before he leaves.

Outside of the room Jack had set up, the lights flicker, and the shadows cling to the walls and the corners. Every surface is covered with dirt, just from time taking its toll on an abandoned building. There were supplies and equipment when he found it, but the technology is old, even for the primitive 21st century.

He's not sure what they used to research here, but it's everything he needed for what he planned on doing.

It took time for Jack to perfect his specimen. He'd never cloned anything before. In a couple decades it would be an accepted practice to clone your deceased pet, but the debate on whether or not human cloning was ethical would rage on for centuries.

Just because someone had the genetic makeup of your loved one, were they still the same person? Did they share a soul? Could you measure a soul? Was there, in fact, a soul?

Those were the questions Jack had asked himself before he fled. He couldn't bring back Steven -- he couldn't look in Steven's face when he'd been the one to kill him. It wasn't the 456, it wasn't what he had to do (though it was).

But Ianto. Ianto hadn't been Jack's fault, and Jack doesn't want to be alone.

A few hours later, Jack returns with food, and finds Ianto awake.

"Hey," he says. "How long have you been up?"

Ianto shrugs. "Not long." He pulls his hands to his chest and touches his left wrist. "I don't have a watch."

"I'll get you one," Jack replies. He holds up the paper sack. "I brought food. It's just a salad. We should ease you into heavier foods."

"How long was out for?" Ianto asks, taking the bag. He pulls out the clear plastic container and disposable cutlery in a packet with a paper napkin and to-go packs of salt and pepper. "Days? Has it been weeks?"

It's been months, but Jack hasn't been keeping track of time. He barely knows what day of the week it is, let alone the exact date. He pushes a wheeled table over to Ianto so he something to eat off of, and shrugs. "A few weeks."

He wonders what he's going to do when they leave the facility and go into the real world. When Ianto sees the date, whatever it is, and realizes that something's wrong.

Ianto digs into his salad, apparently ravenous, and looks around. "So where are we?" he asks after he swallows. "This isn't a regular hospital. There'd be nurses and noise. It's pretty quiet."

"It's a private medical facility," Jack replies. He sits down on a stool -- also with wheels -- and stares into Ianto's face. "There's no nurses. It's just... us."

Ianto doesn't need to see the date to know that something is wrong. He chews slower, watching Jack through narrowed eyes. "What happened?" he asks. "Where are we, geographically?"

Jack takes a slow breath. "Scotland." There's no sense hiding it, since Ianto would only find out eventually.

"You've got to be joking," Ianto says. "For what reason would you take a man in a coma to another country for? Jack, that doesn't even make sense."

"It makes sense if you know the whole story," Jack says. "But we can get into that later."

"I'd rather get into it now. I feel fine. I don't even... I would think after being in a coma, I'd feel tired, but I feel great. I don't know that I've ever felt this good."

Jack grins. "That's fantastic. I wanted you to wake up feeling that good."

"So tell me what's going on, Jack. Why are we in Scotland? In a... empty hospital?" Ianto puts down his fork and pushes the table back. "This is -- I know this might sound strange coming from someone who works for Torchwood, but this is bizarre. We're here and there's no one around--"

Jack laughs and rolls the stool forward so he can take Ianto's hand. "Do you remember when you came to Torchwood? Why you came to Cardiff after Torchwood One fell?"

Ianto's gaze falls to his lap. "Of course I do," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That's all I'm doing," Jack says. "I did everything I had to in order to keep you alive."

Ianto looks back up. "What did you do?"

Jack reaches up and pushes Ianto's hair away from his forehead. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Ianto's forehead. "Don't you worry about that. All that matters is that you're alive. Trust me. Can you do that?"

"Always, Jack," Ianto replies. He smiles shakily. "Thank you for... whatever you did."

"You're welcome," Jack says.

***

They stay in Scotland, living in a remote house Jack bought, about an hour out from Aberdeen. There's nothing around them as far as the eye can see. It has a yard with a garden in the back. They hang wind chimes from the eaves and Ianto paints the living room blue. Jack tells Ianto they're staying because they're hiding. He doesn't mention what they're hiding from.

They don't have mobile phones or computers -- too easy to track. Jack keeps them completely cut off. They don't even have a television or radio, but a collection of CDs that Jack had pilfered from Ianto's flat before he left for Scotland. It's an odd collection of 70's and 90's rock, but nothing current. Ianto listens to them constantly.

They grow their own vegetables and Jack keeps talking about chickens. Ianto just laughs and tells him no. They can buy eggs from the store and chickens are disgusting. At night, Jack crawls into bed next to Ianto and kisses the nape of his neck. He pauses to breathe in the scent of Ianto's soap and his body. He never wants to forget it.

"You're acting strangely," Ianto had said nearly every day for the first two months. He still says it every now and again, but Jack smiles when he does. This is what Ianto had wanted. A real life with someone.

Jack lays with his head on Ianto's chest, dozing while Ianto is out like a light. He's comforted by the heartbeat when he hears the hitch in Ianto's breath.

Ianto sits up, coughing, and they're tangled together as Jack tries to get out of his way.

"I'm going to get you a glass of water," Jack says, pulling back the duvet. He starts to get out of bed, but he can't move as Ianto starts coughing again.

"Jack," Ianto says weakly. He holds out his hand, and it's covered with blood. He coughs again and with watery eyes says, "We need to go to the hospital."

Jack stares at him. The hospital? Ianto Jones is officially dead. He couldn't put them on the map that way. Besides, how was this Ianto's body different? It shouldn't have broken down like this.

Ianto gapes back at him. "Jack!" he says breathlessly.

Jack doesn't move, but his heart is pounding hard in his chest. He knows he loves Ianto. He wouldn't have done this if he didn't love Ianto with every fiber of his being. He's not sure he can watch Ianto die again. They were supposed to have longer this time.

He could make another one. He could have another Ianto. This doesn't have to be the end.

"It's going to be okay," Jack says and he barely recognizes the sound of his own voice. He reaches for a pillow with shaking hands. "It'll be okay."

Ianto's eyes go wide. "Jack--"

"It's okay," Jack says, because there's nothing else to say. He picks up the pillow and covers Ianto's face, shoving him back down onto the bed. Ianto wraps his hands around Jack's wrist, trying to push him away, but he's weak.

"It's going to be okay," Jack says as he holds Ianto down. Ianto's grip slowly loosens and Jack smiles through his tears. "It's going to be okay."

When Ianto's body stills, Jack moves away. It's not as though he's never killed anyone. It's not even like he's never killed anyone he loved. He can do this.

Jack dresses and goes outside. The stars are sparkling in the sky next to a beautiful crescent moon. He smiles and goes out to the tool shed in the corner of the yard. He grabs a shovel and starts digging next to the garden. He has to do this. If he does this, he's one step closer to having Ianto back.

It's nearly dawn when Jack finishes the grave. He climbs out of the hole and goes back inside. He goes down the hall and stands in front of the bedroom door for a moment. With a shuddering breath, he steps into the room, and nothing's changed. Ianto's body is still there, silent and still.

Jack takes a deep breath. Before he does anything else, he plucks a few strands of hair from Ianto's head. He needs something to make another ones. He wraps Ianto up in the duvet. It's stained with blood and he won't keep any of it after tonight. He carries the body outside, and it's beautiful, the sky streaked with purple from the oncoming sunrise.

"Don't worry," Jack says as he lowers Ianto's body into the ground. "We'll be back together soon."

***

Two weeks after Jack brings Ianto home from the medical facility, Ianto paints the living room a deep red color. None of their furniture matches, so he buys white cotton covers for everything. A few weeks later, Ianto says, "We should get the chickens."

It's like he's a completely different person.

And then Jack remembers that he is.

As time passes, Jack stops jumping at every cough, expecting Ianto to wake up with blood on his hands. Sometimes, he stays awake just watching the rise and fall of Ianto's chest.

"Jack, what are we doing?" Ianto asks on a warm summer morning. They're sitting on the patio with their breakfast. Ianto is clutching his coffee mug in both hands, his eyes squinting into the sun as he speaks.

"What do you mean?" Jack asks around a mouthful of eggs.

Ianto shrugs. "We've been in hiding for ages. What about Gwen? What about _Torchwood_? Are we going to do this forever? Are we going to hide for the rest of -- well, the rest of my life? I don't even know what we're hiding from."

Jack swallows his food and shrugs. "I don't know, Ianto. Maybe someday."

"What about Gwen?" Ianto asks again. "Are we just never going to see her again?"

"She's probably hiding too. I hope she is, and I hope we see her again." The lie is easier if Gwen it part of it. He sighs. "I just don't want you to be in danger. It doesn't matter for me, but you--"

"I'm not an idiot, Jack!"

Jack sighs. "I know you're not. Look, we... we just can't, all right? Remember when you woke up in the hospital? You said you trusted me. Just keep trusting me, okay?" He holds his hand out across the table.

Ianto hesitates, then his shoulders sag. He takes Jack's hand and smiles. "I trust you."

His eyes full of not only trust, but confidence. He's confident that Jack is doing the right thing for the both of them. It should have made him feel better, but his spirit sink instead.

Jack picks up his own mug. "Do you believe in souls?"

Ianto's eyebrows shoot up at the sudden subject change. "I... I suppose so. I was brought up going to church and they made a fuss about it. Why do you ask?"

"Just something I was thinking about," Jack replies with a shrug.

"That doesn't seem like you."

"What? Thinking?" Jack grins. "This isn't just a pretty face, you know."

Ianto laughs. "That wasn't what I meant. Theological discussions aren't your thing. I don't know that you've ever mentioned a soul before. You usually laugh at me if I bring it up. Do you want to go find a church now?" He smirks over the rim of his coffee cup.

"No," Jack replies, still smiling. He loves it when Ianto gives him that look. It usually means something sexy is going to happen soon. "I have a much better use for our Sunday mornings. And they involve our bed."

Ianto chuckles as Jack stands and starts gathering the dishes. "And here I thought Sunday was a day of rest."

Jack kisses the top of Ianto's head as he passes him to go inside. "There's no rest for the wicked," he replies.

Summer fades into wet autumn and Ianto begins preparing the garden for winter. There are only a few squash and pumpkins left on vines, but the garden is otherwise empty.

Jack watches from the window, with a cup of coffee in hand, admiring the way Ianto's jeans pull tight across his arse every time he bends over. He knows he really should go out and help, but watching from inside the warm house is just so _nice_. Jack is already half fantasizing about what he'd do to Ianto when he came inside.

Ianto's face would be cold as it bumped against the inside of Jack's thighs, but his mouth would so warm as he swallowed Jack's cock. Then Jack would lazily fuck Ianto's mouth, because they didn't have to worry about anything else. They had nowhere to be. No one was counting on them. There weren't any more frantic shags like they'd had back in the Hub.

Feeling pleasantly buzzed from his arousal, Jack turns his focus back to the Ianto in the garden instead of the one in his imagination. Yes, he wants to squeeze that arse in his hands, he decides. He's about to go to the door and call Ianto in when Jack drops his mug. Coffee splatters across the floor, but he doesn't mind it, his gaze frozen forward.

Ianto grabs a hold of his left arm for a moment before he crumbles to the ground. Even from inside, Jack can hear his cries of pain.

Jack rushes out the door and falls down next to Ianto. "What is it?" he asks, sucking in the cold air through his mouth. He grabs Ianto's hand and squeezes it tight. "What's wrong?" But he knows what's wrong. He knows that this body has worn out, too.

"I think -- I think I'm having a heart attack," Ianto says in a stressed whisper. "I'm too young. This can't be--"

"Shh," Jack says, but his mind is racing. He can't watch Ianto die, not again. He looks around for something -- for _anything_ \-- that can save him, but nothing can save Ianto now. 

Jack is shaking all over and his heart feels like it's pounding in his throat. He can't do this again. He can't watch Ianto slip from his fingers and die. He's seen it too many times now, and he can't see it again. He has to fix this.

His eyes settle on one of the grey flagstones that mark off the garden from the rest of the yard. It's flat and roughly triangle-shaped. He moves away from Ianto and digs his fingers into the cold dirt to pull up the rock.

"Jack?" Ianto asks, his voice small and afraid.

"I'm taking care of it," Jack says, finally prising the stone from the earth. "I'm taking care of you."

"Jack... _Jack_."

He ignores Ianto's voice. There's only one thing to do now. The rock is cold and heavy in Jack's hands as he lifts it above Ianto's head. He tunes out Ianto's voice and his tears. If Ianto is pleading, Jack doesn't hear it. He won't let himself hear it. With all of his strength behind it, he throws the rock down, point first.

What he does hear is the crack of the stone hitting Ianto's skull. Blood splatters across the yard and onto Jack's clothing. Ianto's body is still after one blow, but Jack raises the stone once again. Just to be sure.

After Jack tosses the rock aside, he gazes down at the mess that was once Ianto's face. The two misshapen bloody holes in his forehead, and how Ianto's left eye is pushed halfway out of the socket. Jack can barely even recognize him. He doesn't look like Ianto. He doesn't look like anyone.

Jack looks down at his own hands, caked with dirt and blood. He wipes them off on his trousers, only to discover that through everything, he'd maintained his erection.

He gets sick in the grass, though some ends up on the sleeve of Ianto's ugly brown jumper. He doubles over and the tears slide off the end of his nose, falling to the ground.

Ianto didn't have to suffer. All Jack has to do to is bury the body and make a new Ianto.

All he has to do is make a new one.

***

Jack is never quite sure what a new Ianto is going to do.

Ianto leaves the white furniture covers, but paints the walls a bright aloe vera green. He cleans everything in the house over the course of a few days, and then inexplicably gives all their lamps and dishes to a charity shop. He buys new ones when he and Jack at in town.

"I'd like a job," Ianto says as he puts away the new plates. "I know I couldn't give them my real name, but I'm sure you know how to create a false identity. One that's enough for me to work in the charity shop. They had a sign on the door."

Jack knows how to do that. "You don't like spending all your time with me?" he asks with a smile, trying to make a joke of it.

Ianto rolls his eyes. "I'd just like to get out of the house for a few hours a day. Sometimes I get so sick of these walls. Don't you?"

The answer is no. Jack likes hiding. He likes being where no one can find them. No responsibility of the planet or from the Doctor. No one expecting him to save the world. Again. When he was young he wanted the life of adventure, but now he's had several lifetimes of adventure. Now he wants to settle down for a while. Just long enough to catch his breath.

But Ianto doesn't have forever, and the thought twists painfully in Jack's stomach. It'd be selfish of him to keep Ianto with him all the time. It's been years now, the two of them always together in their house. Ianto deserves a few hours out on his own.

"I can make you that fake identity," Jack says, sliding his body behind Ianto's and pulling them flush together. He kisses Ianto's neck, and breathes him in. He smells different. "If it'll make you happy."

"It will, thank you," Ianto replies. He leans his body against Jack's. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jack squeezes Ianto around the middle and hums an agreement.

They get a home phone because it'd be too peculiar to not have one, and a few days later, Ianto gets a job at the charity shop under the name William Jones. It's common sounding, and Ianto tells a story of how he moved here from Wales for his partner's job. Jack never goes into the shop because it might attract attention, an American and a Welshman living together.

 _Someone could be looking for them,_ Jack says to Ianto, but what he really means is, _Gwen may be looking for me_.

Ianto's mood shifts. He's smiling more, chattier. He comes home with stories about customers or the two ladies he works for, and sings along with the Eagles as he makes dinner. Jack wonders if the last Ianto had been depressed and he never noticed.

When spring rolls around, Ianto wears tee shirts and works out in the garden. Jack doesn't watch him from inside, but works with him, keeping an eye out for anything strange. Besides, out here, he can grab Ianto's arse anytime he likes.

Ianto sticks the shovel into the ground and looks around. "Didn't we have more flagstones?" he asks.

Jack freezes for an instant, but then smiles. "I moved them around so we'd have more room for the garden," he says. "It just looks like there are less of them."

Ianto furrows his brow and takes another glance around the garden. "Oh, I suppose so. What do you think we should grow more of? And don't say tomatoes, because I don't know what to do with all of them. We still have a dozen jars from last year. I can't make enough pasta sauce."

"We could give them to your new friends at the shop," Jack replies, and Ianto's eyes light up.

"That's a great idea." He leans over and kisses Jack. "I'm so glad we're in hiding together."

Jack grins. "Me too."

The next morning, with the sun streaming in through the windows, Jack rolls over in bed, wrapping his arms around Ianto's body. He rubs his cock against Ianto's arse. "Morning," he murmurs.

"Morning," Ianto replies. "I have to go to work, Jack."

"Five minutes," Jack says. He rubs his hand up Ianto's chest and squeezes a nipple. "You know you want to."

"I do, but I need to pee," Ianto says.

"That's okay." Jack kisses the back of Ianto's neck. "We can wash the sheets when we're done."

Ianto laughs and worms out of Jack's grasp. "I love trying new things and you know that, but no. I'm going to go pee in the toilet. You should go fix some breakfast." He sits up and stretches with a loud yawn.

Jack climbs out of bed and heads into the kitchen, scratching his backside. His erection flags outside of the warm cocoon of blankets, but it's all right. He knows Ianto will make it up to him later. He always does.

After putting the coffee on, Jack digs around in the fridge for milk and eggs. Every time Jack opens one of the cardboard cartons, he thinks about how they still need to get chickens.

He pulls a cast iron skillet from the cabinet and set it on the stove. He adds a few pats of butter, letting them melt on low heat while he cracks the eggs the edge of the bowl.

"Jack?"

He turns and Ianto is standing there in only his red cotton boxers. For as often Jack cooks breakfast naked, Ianto isn't one to wander around the house without his dressing gown.

"Ianto, what's wrong?" Jack asks, his stomach turning to ice.

Ianto starts blinking rapidly. "There was -- there was, uh, blood in my urine. I don't know what that means."

It could be a urinary tract infection or kidney stones. Or it could be bladder cancer. It could be Ianto slipping through his fingers again.

"I can't lose you," Jack says.

Ianto smiles shakily, stepping closer. "It could be nothing." He touches Jack's cheek with his hand. "I'll just go to the doctor and--"

"The Doctor," Jack scoffs. He knows that isn't what Ianto means, but damn it, if he doesn't hate the Doctor. It's a grudge he can't quite give up. He turns away from Ianto and the iron skillet is just sitting there, the butter bubbling. Calm settles of Jack. He knows what he needs to do now.

Jack picks up the skillet and spins around. Ianto doesn't have time to react before the skillet comes in contact with the side of his head. His body falls to the floor with a thump.

Stumbling backwards, Jack drops the skillet and it lands on his foot.

"Shit!" he shouts and slams his first into the nearest wall. It doesn't help, and now his hand hurts too. Closing his eyes tight, Jack takes a few deep breaths. He tries not to cry, but he can feel the burn of tears building up behind his eyelids. He straightens up and his throbbing hand is steady as he picks up the phone. He dials the charity shop's number.

"Hello," he says after one of the women answer. He'd never met them and didn't know which one was which. "This is William's partner, Jack. I'm calling to tell you that he's feeling ill. I think it's the flu. He may not be in for a few days."

"Oh dear," she replies. "That's a shame, the customers just adore him. Give Will our best. I'll be praying for his speedy recovery."

"Of course," Jack says, and he hangs up the phone. He can have another Ianto ready by then. They're becoming easier to make.

He gets dressed and goes outside to get the shovel. It's time to dig another grave.

***

Ianto paints the living room walls eggshell and buys new black covers for the furniture. He quits his job at the charity shop and cleans out the guttering. He repairs leaky pipes and starts reading mystery novels.

When the walls go from eggshell to teal, Ianto speaks with slurred speech, and Jack isn't sure what that means. He's anxious for days, but eventually decides to overlook it and he's glad he does. This Ianto is passionate and the sex lasts for hours. Jack doesn't know the last time he'd felt so completely satisfied. Ianto goes into town weekly and takes piano lessons, and comes home humming Cole Porter.

Jack sobs for days after he slits Ianto's throat.

The slur disappears with the teal and the walls are now a yellow-brown, and Jack isn't sure how Ianto could have picked such a horrid color. It reminds him of vomit. Ianto buys a new collection of over-sized coffee table books, and the white furniture covers come back out, freshly bleached. Ianto insists they get a television and he spends hours watching James Bond films. Jack feels a tug of familiarity for the original Ianto after the DVDs had gone untouched for years.

After the vomit walls, they go into what Jack starts to think of as the purple era. The walls are lavender, then a deep violet, followed by a reddish purple, and then Ianto gives all the trim in the room a fresh coat of white paint.

That's followed by orange, powder blue, gold, and pine green.

"We need new furniture," Ianto says after he finishes the newest coat of buttery yellow paint. Jack agrees, so after Ianto showers, they go into town. Before they start shopping, they stop in a little café for lunch.

Ianto picks up a newspaper that had been left on their table and after reading a few pages, he frowns. "Liz Fletcher died."

"Who?" Jack asks, still looking over the menu. They've already ordered, but he's already thinking about a slice of cake. Pine green Ianto had been a baker, and Jack is already missing having regular sweets around the house, even if he thought he'd gained a stone and a half.

"Liz," he says, as though Jack should know. "She ran the charity shop."

Jack frowns too and puts down the menu. "I'm sorry, Ianto. Does it say what happened?"

Ianto shrugs. "She was old, Jack. She was old when I worked there and that was years ago." He shakes his head and tosses the paper onto the next table. "The service is on Saturday. I'd like to go."

"I'll go with you," Jack says, though he'd been to far too many funerals in his life. He could mark the years in funerals, but he'd go and hold Ianto's hand.

They head back home after they've paid for a classic brown leather furniture set (a sofa and two rather squishy chairs). Ianto goes straight into the kitchen and pulls out a bottle of scotch.

"Isn't it a bit early?" Jack asks, but he grabs his own tumbler and joins Ianto at the table.

Ianto pours for both of them and downs his in one gulp. "Something's wrong," he says, pouring himself another glass. "I hadn't noticed, really, until I saw how old Liz had been. And I looked at the date and I... I hadn't really noticed how long it's been."

"What are you talking about?" Jack asks, but he feels his eyes widening. He hasn't looked at the date in years. He only knows it's been years by the rotation of vegetables in the garden, but the years blend together.

"I look in the mirror and I look exactly the same as I did... back when we were with Torchwood, and with Gwen. I'm not you, Jack. I should have aged. I should look different. I should feel different, but I don't. I feel twenty-seven years old." Ianto kicks back his second glass and slams it down on the table. "What did you do to me? After Thames House, when I woke up in that hospital, what had you done?"

"I thought you said you trusted me," Jack replies tersely.

"I don't know if you deserve it! What's happening to me, Jack? What did you _do_?"

"What I had to do to keep you alive! I saved you!" Jack pushes away from the table and starts pacing the kitchen. "You don't know what it was like, Ianto. To see you die in my arms, and I never wanted to see that again. You were fragile and tired and you slipped away so easily. If I'd been able to save you then, I would have, but I couldn't. It just... it happened later that I did it."

Ianto stares at him for a moment. "So I did die," he says.

"Yes. Yes, you did."

"How'd you do it?"

Jack comes back to the table, but he doesn't sit. Instead, he picks up his tumbler and sips at it. "You're a clone. I cloned you. The technology isn't anything special, and you're still here. You're essentially the same."

"Essentially," Ianto echoes.

"There are some subtle differences," Jack says.

"And I don't age."

Jack pauses. Ianto _should_ age. He would, probably, if Jack didn't have to keep making new ones, but he couldn't admit to Ianto that their garden was filled with bodies. It was easier this way. Ianto would never trust him otherwise.

"No," he says after a few moments, "you don't age. It's a side effect. As far as side effects go, it could be worse."

Ianto swallows and doesn't quite meet Jack's gaze. "Will I die?"

Jack turns his eyes to the floor. "I'm sure you will. Someday."

"Okay," Ianto says, and when Jack looks up, he's nodded and pouring himself another scotch. "Good to know."

"That's it?" Jack asks.

Ianto shrugs. "What's done is done, Jack. We can't take it back. But promise me that when I die the next time, you let me go."

Jack smiles weakly and nods. "I promise."

He doesn't even feel guilty for lying.

***

The colors blur together and Jack is certain the living room is shrinking from the coats of paint slathered on the walls. He's lost count of how many colors they've been through. He wants to scrape through the walls and see every color, to see the history of his Iantos, like rings in a tree.

Right now the walls are grey, and they've been that way for several Iantos now. Jack begins to fear that it's the color they'll always be.

Ianto is slipping away from him faster than ever these days. A body that would last months only goes on for weeks. The new clones are fragile from the start. Jack knows he should have saved more cells from the original Ianto, but the DNA from the clones is all he has.

He doesn't know how to save Ianto anymore, so Jack tries to care for him the best he can.

Most days, Ianto just sits in his chair, if he can even get out of bed, and doesn't eat. He watches the movies Jack puts on him for him, sometimes even laughing, but mostly he stares with glassy eyes.

Jack walks into the house carrying a bowl full of freshly picked tomatoes from the garden. Jack can't remember the last time Ianto worked in the garden, but even when he's not eating the fruits of Jack's labor, he still likes to see the results. "Ianto, look at these! They're gorgeous."

Ianto, with his eyes half open, doesn't answer. He doesn't move or acknowledge Jack in any way.

The bowl crashes against the old hardwood floor, tomatoes rolling everywhere, as Jack rushes to Ianto's side. He takes a clammy hand in his own and kneels next to the chair. "Ianto, no. Ianto -- Ianto!"

There's nothing. Ianto's gone.

Jack lowers his head, still clutching Ianto's hand and cries. It hasn't even been _three days_ since he brought this Ianto home from the facility.

Finally, Jack rises and looks around the house that he and Ianto had made into a home. Without Ianto, he doesn't know what to do with it. They'd lived here for so long; he doesn't even know how long it's been. Time has slipped away from him, just like Ianto.

He needs more time. Jack sucks in a heavy breath and goes outside. He isn't giving up yet. All he has to do is take the first step in getting another Ianto.

He just needs more time.

Jack gets his newest Ianto home and tucks him into bed. It's quite early in the morning, and they never wake up right away, giving Jack time to create the illusion they've just woken up from a well deserved sleep.

He starts to creep out of the room to fix some breakfast, when he hears a cough.

"Jack?" Ianto croaks.

He turns and sits on the edge of the bed, taking Ianto's hand in his own. "How are you feeling?"

Ianto's eyes narrow. "Like I've been cloned."

Jack's stomach turns to ice, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Ianto just shakes his head.

"It's not like I've haven't known for a while that you hadn't stopped. I know I said that I wanted you to let me die, but the will to survive had been too strong. But it's not anymore. I'm not any good to you like this."

"That's ridiculous," Jack says.

"It's the truth," Ianto replies. "I'm weak and my body won't last the day. I know it won't. I can feel it shutting down already. I need you to promise me, and to honestly promise me, that this was the last time. I don't know what will happen to me if you try to do it again."

Jack smiles and brushes Ianto's hair away from his forehead. "Does death make you wise?" He wouldn't know. For all his deaths, he's never died. He wouldn't know how to. He doesn't even know how to let Ianto die.

"No, it just puts things into perspective." Ianto wets his lips with his tongue and squeezes Jack's hand. "I want you to stay here with me until it's over. We've had a beautiful life together, and I'm ready. I want you to be ready too." He smiles, his eyes calm. "I love you, Jack. And I want to hear you say it this time."

Tears slide down Jack's cheeks. "I love you too, Ianto. I wouldn't have done all of this if I hadn't."

"Yes, you would," Ianto says, and Jack isn't convinced that death doesn't make someone wise.

Jack climbs into bed and wraps his arms around Ianto's body, holding him close. He doesn't smell like Ianto. Jack isn't sure if he can remember that scent after so long.

Ianto closes his eyes and Jack lays awake, feeing him breathe until he doesn't anymore.

Then Jack carries Ianto out into the garden one last time.

***

Jack doesn't know what to do with himself now that Ianto's gone. He stays in the house for a few weeks, but it's not the same.

Finally, he decides it's time to go back to Cardiff. It's time to start up his life again, to go back to Torchwood. He can throw himself into Torchwood. He'd done it before.

He dons his greatcoat and leather wristband for the first time in years and gets in the car.

Jack isn't oblivious to the changes on the long drive from Aberdeen. Buildings he remembers are gone and new ones are up in their place. The cars look different, and he realizes that his must look so out of place. Luckily, he's never been one to be inconspicuous.

It's not hard to find Gwen once he arrives in Cardiff. Jack parks his car outside the home. He walks inside and same dread that had come with each Ianto's passing settles over him.

He finds her room, the door open, and there's a woman sitting in a wheelchair by the window. The sun highlights her wrinkled face and white hair as she gazes through the slits of the plastic blinds.

Jack swallows. "Gwen?" he asks and his voice is trembling. It couldn't be. It couldn't have been this long. He knows he hadn't been keeping track of time, but it couldn't be like this.

The woman turns her head and she stares for a long moment before she smiles. There's no mistaking that smile, and Jack's heart sinks, though Gwen's eyes are lit up.

"Jack," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. "I knew you'd come back someday. God, you look exactly the same, don't you?" She holds out her hand as he comes closer to her. "Tell me everything. Tell me what you saw."

Out in the universe. Yes, when he'd left he told her he was going out into space. He takes her hand, and her skin is dry and papery against his. He crouches so he's eye-level with her. "It was beautiful," he says. He can't tell her the truth, not now. He grins at her. "What would you say if I told you I was here to take you out there with me?"

She laughs. "Only you, Jack, would flirt with an eighty-nine year old woman with stomach cancer."

"Am I going to get in trouble for it?" Jack looks over his shoulder before turning back to her. "Is Rhys around here somewhere with a cricket bat?"

"No," Gwen says, her smile fading. "Rhys passed on about ten years ago. He'd been ill, and it was all very peaceful."

"I'm sorry."

She lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "It's what happens when you get old."

"And the baby? You were pregnant."

"It's been so long since I thought of her a baby. My Anwen, she didn't..." For the first time she chokes up, holding her free hand to her mouth. "She didn't even make it to thirty. It was... it was aliens, Jack. Hostile and worse than anything I'd ever seen. They killed millions. I kept hoping you'd come and find us. That you'd know something was wrong and find us. Even in the darkest hour, I held out hope for you. But you're not a savior, are you?"

"No, I'm not," Jack agrees somberly. "Gwen, I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I didn't know -- time got away from me. I didn't know it had been so long. I didn't think it was this late. If I'd know you were--"

"I had a good life, Jack. I spent it with a man who loves me, and I made a difference. Isn't that all anyone can ask for? To live and know you've made a difference?" She squeezes his hand and her grip is still strong. "It's been a good life. What Torchwood couldn't give me, Rhys did. I had almost everything."

Jack can't stop the few tears that slip from his eyes, but he wants to truly weep. He's ready to lay his head in Gwen's lap and sob. Yes, that's all anyone could ask for, and not only hadn't he done it in this lifetime, he'd kept Ianto all to himself and away from the world so he couldn't make a difference either.

He may have given Ianto life, but he hadn't let him live.

"I'm grateful that you had a good life," Jack says. "I'm so sorry I missed it. I didn't mean to miss it. I didn't know--"

"Well, you're here now," Gwen says. She touches his cheek. "I'm so glad you came to see me once last time."

"What are you talking about? I'm staying. You're stuck with me this time, Gwen Cooper."

She smiles sadly and shakes her head. "Oh, Jack. No, no, I'm not. It's any day now."

"Gwen, no--"

She places a finger over his lips to shush him. "I know you're older than I am, but I've got the wrinkles to prove it, so listen to me. It's all right. I'm ready."

That's exactly what Ianto had said. Jack hadn't quite believed him when he'd said it, but the way Gwen spoke, he understood. He understood for both of them.

"I'm not," Jack replies. "I'm never ready to watch anyone die. You'd think I get used to it after all these years."

"I'd hate to see the day when you do," Gwen says. She leans forward and presses a kiss to Jack's forehead. "I don't know what you've been doing, but I'm sure it's been extraordinary. Good enough to come back to Cardiff for."

He gazes up at her and she's every bit as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her. He smiles. "I wish I could tell you everything. I made so many mistakes."

"You think I haven't? I'm just so glad you came. I've been waiting," she says. She yawns and covers her mouth. "Sorry, I'm so tired all the time. Can you call the nurse and tell her I'm ready for bed?"

He touches her hair and smiles. "I can help."

Gwen smiles. "If you insist."

Jack helps her out of her dressing gown and into bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed like he had the last day with Ianto. "I think I'll stay here until you fall asleep."

She's still smiling as her eyes close. He knows she's been hanging on for him, waiting for him to come back to her. One last time, she'd said.

Jack holds her hand until Gwen slips away and his heart breaks.

They were ready. They both said they were ready. It's a concept he can't quite understand.

Maybe someday.

It's time to make a fresh start, Jack thinks as he leaves the rooms with tears in his eyes. Torchwood is always waiting, and as long as he's around, there will be a Torchwood.

The walls won't be grey forever.


End file.
